


Genetic Anomalies

by silverwing33



Series: Kitsune [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Wolverine (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Canada, F/F, F/M, Gen, Japan, Lotus Flower, Mutants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-14 02:50:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21008510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverwing33/pseuds/silverwing33
Summary: Rose O'Hare had a sister. They were seperated when they were very young. This is the tale of that sister.





	1. Chapter 1

My childhood was a long, long time ago. But I remember some parts quite clearly and there's this juxtaposition of good memories against the bad, it's hard to believe that one or the other truly existed. Sometimes I still wonder if what I remember is true or something falsely imprinted in my mind. It's very difficult to tell even after all these decades, even after everything I know and the knowledge I have accrued over the years. The lives I lived have been so different, I don't recognise the self that stares back at me from the mirror.

As a child, I was very rambunctious, curious and willful. I was forever running around, up and down hallways and around corridors. But it was outside that I always felt the freest, the most comfortable and relaxed.

My mother had left when I was born, along with my sister, Rose. I didn't know why and every question I asked on the topic was met by a big black wall inside my father's mind. From an early age, I had discovered I could read peoples thoughts and emotions. My father was most interested in that and believed me when I told him in confidence. I adored him and I believed he adored me.

He was a geneticist and studied animal biology and how it relates to the biology of humans. He strongly believed in evolution but believed that we didn't all evolve from primates. But a mixture of different animals by way of random mutation with certain species. His interest and study into the topic became an obsession. And that obsession led him down the path of insanity.

I still remember running to my dad all giggles and bouncing curly red hair for him to spend some time with me. And he would pick me up to sit on his lap. And I would look at what he was doing, I would try to read his books, his journals. I didn't understand any of it, but I liked learning new things. Intellectual intelligence was always encouraged, and he would read to me from a big volume of books. They weren't fairytales, they were books on philosophical beliefs. I believe it was these books that saved me.

Growing up I was given a personal tutor. School was out of the question as we travelled around so much. The curious part was that I never longed for companionship. Even then, I was quite self-sufficient. Independent. I was more intrigued by the passing landscapes we would wander through.

As a teenager, my tutelage turned a corner towards the fields of medicine. My father had wanted me to follow in his footsteps and ultimately work alongside him. But it was also around this time that I became more aware of his eccentricities that I hadn't noticed before. As a young child, my father would take regular blood samples for me as part of his work. I didn't know and remembering it now makes me shiver in horror. He started to have various procedures done on himself changing his physical appearance. I didn't know why and I didn't realise what was happening. But it all started towards its inevitable climax. And of course, it started with a boy.

Victor Creed.

  
  



	2. Broken Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victors hidden origin. How he started on his path towards weapon x

Victor came to us as a young teenage boy that has been living rough after running away from abusive family life. He was shy, timid and insecure in himself.   
My father took him under his wing, not like a son, but a prodigy. He sent less and less time with me and more time alone with Victor.

But at night, Victor and I would visit each others rooms for a midnight feast. There he would tell me what he and my father had been upto. He told me of the experiments and how he felt himself changing inside. Part of him revelled in it, but the other was scared by what was happening and how he was feeling. I comforted him as much as I could and we spent many nights talking, reading - Victors skills in reading were coming along at an accelerated pace as was his writing when he passed me notes at the dinner table in the evening.

My father encouraged our friendship, in the hopes that I might follow Victor and become what he believed was my true destiny in life. To become part of the Dominant Species who would lead an empire over those below us. He would speak and lecture us at length over it. Victor was in awe when my father spoke. His before had hated his physical differences and punished him for it. Now he had a new father figure who not only accepted him but actively encouraged their development.   
But where Victor was enraptured, i was disgusted. I start to hate my very nature.

A couple of years ago claws sprouted from my hands after I had gotten angry at a foot ottoman that I had tripped over in the living area. I screamed the place down. I didn't understand what was happening to me. My father had come racing in and saw me standing there trembling with my hands upturned with the claws curving round in a wide-angle to rest two inches away from my fingertips. I was howling the place down as my feet gave way and I sank to the floor. My father squatted down in front of me smiling. His eyes gleaming, it was as if he had been waiting for this day to happen. He spoke to me calming and gently, telling me everything was alright. But his words were drowned out by the wave of unconsciousness that cast over me. I've always hated them.

Now more than ever!

One night after Victor had fallen asleep, I crept into the kitchen and extracted a large kitchen knife. Extending my claws, and cut them off. It hurt like hell and I yelped with each blow. I'm not sure why he chose that moment to come down, but turning around I came face to chest (as he was a large man and I have always been so short, we never saw eye to eye both figuratively and literally speaking)with my father. He was so angry with me, grabbing the handle of the knife he ripped it out of my hand and slammed it down on the countertop. While his other hand gripped the top of my arm like in a vice and yanked me out of the room. I struggled and fought against him. I knew. I felt something bad was going to happen to me. He threw me into my bedroom and locked the door behind him. I screamed and hammered at the door. The windows had bars across them since we moved in, so it was useless to try them. But I still tried out of desperation. I tried calling for Victor to rescue me. But he never came. I could sense my father still outside the door. I begged and pleaded but he ignored me. Eventually, I fell asleep from exhaustion.

That's when it happened. 


	3. Bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reveal and the betrayal.

I awoke in my bed, but something felt strange. My clothes had been changed and I was wearing my nightgown. My hands felt numb and swollen. I slipped them out from under the covers to find then they had been bandaged. I looked at them with an odd detached feeling. Something was wrong.

The events of last night came back to me and my breath quickened in a panic. I scrambled out of bed and opened my bedroom door. It wasn't locked and not a sound but my own bedraggled breathing could be heard.

Early dawn light pooled on the bare wooden flaw before me from the window opposite me in the hallway. I could see the dew dripping off the leaves of a mirror bush outside. It was early morning and the sun was starting its ascent into the sky. My thoughts were all a-tangle. _What do I do?! What happens now?!_

I went back into my room and stood in the middle, calming my thoughts and breathing. Shh. Calm. Calm. I untangled the bandages from my hand. They were purple with swelling and there was dried blood on the marks where the claws pierce my skin when unsheathed. This was unusual. Normally I heal very quickly without a mark. It was something a person would see after surgery had been done…

I remembered slicing my claws off. I remembered the look on my fathers face. And I felt sick. _He didn't. He couldn't have. Oh no…_

I gritted my tears and squeezed my eyes shut as I unsheathed my claws once more. They were strange. They felt warm and cold and heavy, where everything other time they would feel warm and light. I glanced one eye towards them, keeping the other one still tightly shut.   
I should've kept both eyes closed.

I inhaled through my mouth noisily ready to scream. But didn't. My mind slammed into gear. I needed to get the hell out of there. I needed to run.   
Opening drawers and cupboard doors, I grabbed at things I would need and stuffed them into my suitcase that had been gathering dust for the past few years on top of my wardrobe. The years travelling as a child with my father had stopped. Instead, he had focussed on his obsession and Victor. I had been homeschooled and when I had reached an age, my father had been schooling me in medicine. I had recently graduated in that and had my certificate of being an M.D. I had it framed in my room. Now it was being stuffed amongst my clothes in my case.

I got myself dressed quickly, the swelling and the pain in my hands were ebbing away as my healing factor took over. I didn't know what my plan exactly was. But I knew I couldn't stay, God knows what else he would do with me!

I slung on my coat without wasting time buttoning it up, I grabbed my things and ran for the front door. By the door was my boots. Blasted things! I dropped my things on the floor and struggled my feet into the narrow hole for my feet. Shoes in the early 19th century were not made to be put on in a hurry! fashion over function was the thing of the day! So, of course, it came as no big surprise that I was caught in my escape.

"Libby? What are you doing? Where you going?", Victor had one hand on my shoulder and the other holding my case.   
''Away! Please come with me! It's not safe for us to be here anymore. He's….insane!"  
"He told me what you did."   
Victor wouldn't let go of the handle to my suitcase. He felt my fingers trying to pry his from it. But still, he clung on. There was no inflexion, no emotion in his voice. But the expression he wore on his face was genuine confusion.   
"Really?! And did he tell you what he did to me?!", I hissed with fear and anger, darting glances around me to make sure we weren't heard.   
"He made you stronger." he spoke with total conviction. This was the power my father had over him. He never questioned his teachings, his opinions, the lies he stated as fact. No, Victor believed in him without a shadow of a doubt that he may be wrong.   
I brought my hands up between our faces, exposing the metal-bound claws my father had inflicted on me while I slept unaware of what was happening. "This! Is abuse!", my eyes flared at him with a rage I had never felt in my life before. I felt hollow and violated without measure.   
"No. Lib, you're wrong! Don't go, just stay, stay with us, you'll see. He's making us better, stronger than before. Look at me! I've grown a foot in height! I'm bigger and stronger than ever! Libby, don't you what we can do! What we can be?!", he looked at me with fevered excitement in his eyes and on his face.  
"Victor please, please! You don't know! This is wrong! He's sick! He's using us! Please, please come with me." I grabbed both of his wrists and pulled him towards the door, and just as I turned to open it I heard a door close from down one of the side corridors. He heard us. I tugged at Victor's wrists harder and backed out on to the outside porch. But before he could take one step outside he yanked out of my grip and throw my suitcase at me.   
"He's right. You are weak!.... SIR! LIBBY IS TRYING TO RUN AWAY"   
I couldn't believe it. My victor. My first love. Betraying me to the parent who mutilated me.   
I turned, and I ran and never looked back.

I feel like I've been running ever since. 


	4. Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Land of the wild and the free.

I was 19 when I left home. I already had my doctorate degree, so I was confident of finding a medical practice to work at. The main problem I had was hiding my whereabouts from my father, as he was quite well known in the Canadian field of medicine. Some of the great medical volumes were written by him!

I pawned some items of mine to safeguard my passage away from the area I grew up. I went from town to town and found work within the poorer areas where doctors like my father would refrain from visiting, let alone work there. I liked the people that came to me for appointments. Most were good hardworking people and honest too. But there were always a few that reeked of desperation, despair and greed. It was always them that tried to threaten me and rob me. But they were never successful as I am naturally stronger than the average man and quicker than them. I learnt fairly on, to keep a knife hidden near me.

Because I was always worried about being found or becoming too well known I kept travelling and picked up work on the road. There weren't too many doctors on the lower class carriages of trains. But it was them that needed me the most. Some I refused payments, others I accepted. You find that when you refuse payment, they offer other things in payment, such as somewhere to stay, a blanket to keep you warm, an eye to watch over you and your belongings as you slept. But mostly I was paid in food, although the quality of the food was subpar with very low nutritional value. So I picked up books on plants, fruits and herbs that are readily found in woodlands and forests. I started to keep what I found on me and shared it with those who needed it just as much as i.

I didn't quite know where my end destination was going to be or even what it would look like. But I did like the freedom and the wind in my hair. 


	5. Suture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mining village. A lost sibling. A tragedy and a promise.

They say that to move on, sometimes you have to take a step back. I was shocked to find I was ready for that step and where it might lead to.

I had come near full circle when I arrived back in Canada from my travels around America. A large country with lots of states, lands and people to explore and get to know. I felt strange being in Alberta, I used to pass through here quite a lot as a child. But I didn't feel like one anymore, I was still quite young but I felt much older and I had a wealth of experience wrapped around me like a security blanket. It pained me to remember my childhood. But it felt so far away that it was bearable to reminisce.

I was sat in a small rest stop that served warm chicory coffee and soft sweetbreads. It was a cold, but sunny day with lots of people, horses and carriages rolling by. A small boy was selling broadsheets out on the sidewalk. A scrawny, scrappy with a flat peaked cap that was three sizes too big for his head. Every so often the front would slip down over his eyes and he would have to move it back up. I sat watching him, chuckling at his battle. He turned and saw me watching him and help up a paper. 'Did I want one?', I nodded with a smile and fished out a shiny coin for the paper in his hand. He popped in and the shop keeper bustled over to him to hurry him out of the shop. "That's not necessary. I asked him to come in because I wanted a news sheet. Please let him in, and I will order another cup of coffee and a slice of the delicious sweet potato pie you have over there. Thank you".

I indicated to the boy to sit at my table. "You looked awfully cold out there.", I commented.   
He took off his large-cap and self-consciously slicked back his hair. I divined that he must've been about 12 years of age, but looked younger due to malnutrition. He coughed nervously viewing my head cocked to one side regarding him.   
"Yes, miss. Sorry miss, did you want a sheet? I can't be in for too long, I need to sell this lot before my da comes.", he fidgeted in his seat.   
The shop keeper came over and placed the cup and pie down before me, which I moved across from me.   
"Tuck in", I said quietly, as I checked to see if the old woman was watching. She was, and she was not at all happy. "And yes, I would like a paper please.", I put the coin on the table and slid it over to him.   
The boy gulped down his spoonful of pie and looked down confused at the piece of silver. "I don't give out change."   
"That's fine, consider the rest payment for your company while you eat."   
He looked up with a queer look on his face. But he didn't say a word. I knew it was odd, but he had looked so cold out there and no one was buying from him. I felt a little sorry for him. Not to mention he could do with a good meal!

Soon he finished with a clatter of the metal spoon hitting the metal plate. He licked his lips and wiped his chops on the back of his sleeve, making me smile again. He got up and grabbed his bale of papers and was just about to skedaddle outside when I spoke up, "Wheres my sheet?!"   
He blushed a little and handed me the paper without meeting his eyes to mine. I gave a chuckle as he dashed outside again.

That small exchange was unremarkable. It was the last part of that chapter in my life. The next started within minutes of reading the paper.

**Woman Killed In Campsite Brawl**

Deaths and murders happen every day around the world, so it was unsurprising to read such a headline until…

**A woman who has been named, Rose O'Hare was killed in a campsite in British Columbia after she got in the middle of a fight between two men, one of which has been identified as a worker at the camp by the name of Logan. No name has been given for the other assailant. The law enforcement is on a hunt to find both of these men to be brought before a court for the crime of manslaughter.**

Rose. My sister. There was no other information, no description of the people involved but something. Something deep in my heart told me it was her. I had hoped to find her, I had in my mind when I stepped over the Canadian border that I would hire help to track down my mother and sister. That I would be reunited with them again.

I rose and stuffed the sheet into my large medical bag and hurried over to the hotel I was staying at. I packed all my things in a case and hurried down the stairs, pausing only to pay my bill of staying the night before and to ask when and where the next carriage out to British Columbia was. I was relieved at the desk clerk being so helpful in not just showing me, but helping in the carriage. I asked the driver to take me to the campsite identified in the paper. He nodded and said he knew the one, that his brother worked there and knew about the murder before the papers did. Strangely he didn't ask why I wanted to go. He simply turned his back to get back up to his post on the carriage to ready the horses to leave.

Accompanying me was a tiny old lady who looked too frail to travel far. So far she seemed to be my only travel companion for this journey. With a whip of the horses, we were off on our way.

As we jostled along the road, I dipped my hand into my small purse and took out a small golden oval-shaped closed photo frame. Inside was two pictures, on one side was my sister at the age of 2 when she left with her name written along the bottom and on the other was my mother, Mary O'Hare. I smoothed my thumb and index finger over their pictures, creasing the skin between my brow as a wave of longing overtook me. I was worried that I would live to see neither of them alive. If the woman in the news story really was Rose, and she had been at that campsite, then something must have happened to our mother for her to be there. Unless the belief i held of the type of person my mother was, was wrong.

Soon the dark of the evening turned into night and the coach stopped to check on us, close the shutter blinds which made me feel claustrophobic in the same confined space of the carriage. A lantern was lit and hung inside, which only made it feel worse as you could see how much space you didn't have. I hung on to my purse and closed my eyes, hoping for sleep.

And sleep I did, for I had a strange dream filled with wolves running across the prairie, and I was one of them. When I awoke, I was alone. And the shutters were open and the smell of sulphur was seeping in with the morning air. We were approaching the camp as the horses became to slow before finally coming to a stop.

The coachman jumped down from his seat and opened the carriage door and offered his hand for me to step down. The ground was dusty with lots of red copper-coloured gravel. I looked around me and saw lots of wooden shacks with men leaning in porches, staring at me. Most of them were half-dressed and chewing tobacco, watching my every move. I was starting to see why I dreamt of wolves because in that moment I felt like prey. I didn't like that feeling and ended up feeling hatred for them all with their leering eyes.   
"You lost?!", one of them jeered, elbowing another in the ribs as they laughed at me.   
I stopped and eyed his steadily. "No, I've come here to find out more about the murder that took place here."   
Their faces dropped and they looked at one another. "Why you wanna know about that?!"  
"Because the woman that was killed, I believe may have been my sister."   
"You! Over here!", a large burly man emerged from a doorway before me.   
"I'm not in the presence to be ordered about like a dog! I would advise you to try a different approach. A more gentile one, perhaps", i said steadily, raising my nose to the air. I wasn't going to accept being yelled at or intimidated by the blaggards! I knew my strength, they didn't and they would be fools to test me.   
My words had caught him off guard and I could see in his mind that he was comparing me to rose. It was true, going by the picture in his mind, we did look somewhat alike. But he regarded me as being more sharp in my appearance and disposition than rose, who had been more gentle and demure. He had respected and loved Rose, and was disappointed I wasn't more like her. That had thrown me off guard too. My father had always regarded me as being the superior daughter, although reflecting on things now, I knew why which made the judgement by this man standing before me worse.   
"What is your name?", he asked, eyeing me with a sideways glance.   
"I'm Doctor Liberty O'Hare.", I said with pride. I was my own person and I had earnt this feeling.   
"Then please come into my office. I think we have a lot to discuss miss…"  
"Doctor…"  
"Right….Doctor…"  
I strode with purpose across the courtyard into the office of the man who was obviously in charge of things here.


	6. Stitches

“Take a seat”, the gruff man said whilst indicating the empty seats near his office table. The room, looking around, had seen batter days. There was paperwork piling high on every surface and the wood lumber floor was caked in mud where people had strode in without wiping their work boots on the well-worn mat outside. I sat down gingerly. “Would you like some coffee?”, he asked as he picked up a metal cup and blew in it.   
“No, thank you,” I replied. That just seemed to make him even more uncomfortable and nervous. He half believed that I was who I said I was, but the other half of him didn’t want me to be. He felt responsible for what happened to her. If only they had left sooner that day, instead of leaving it till the evening. He wouldn’t have minded the wait if it had come to that, it was better than what the alternative had been. A lightning strike of pain made him wince and turn away. Sometimes being telepathic had its uses, it gave you a good insight into who a person was and what made them tick. He was a good man, and this was a relief to find.

“So ...you're Rose’s sister?”  
“Yes.”  
“That’s funny, Rose never mentioned a sister to me. And I knew your sister pretty well. She would’ve told me something like that.” He regarded me with squinted eyes, willing me to lie.   
“My sister was two years older than me. My mother had had an affair with another man as she was unhappy in the marriage with my father. My father agreed for a divorce, which would allow her to marry this other man if he could keep me. My mother, she agreed and took Rose with her, leaving me behind. She was two and I had just been born. I doubt my mother told her of any of this, and at the age of two its also doubtful Rose remembered any of this herself.”  
“So you never thought of reaching out to your ma or your sister...till now” He was desperate for all this to be a horrible convoluted story I had made up to see if I could get some money for it.   
“I did. I have been travelling around America and having arrived back in Canada I was hoping to see if I could find them. But if I'm completely honest, I didn’t want to see my mother. For obvious personal reasons. But I did want to meet Rose. I didn’t know about her...what happened to her, till I saw her name in the papers. Which is why I'm here. I was wondering if you could tell me about her, what she was like as a person and what happened. I know how these journalist types can sensualise things to sell their stories.”  
His face twisted as he mulled over what I had said. It was a lot of personal information and he wasn’t too trusting of people who readily share their woes to strangers. Generally, people who did that wanted something in return. “She didn’t have a will. So there’s no money or anything of value you can have.”  
“Mr…?”  
“Smith. John Smith. I’m the foreman here at the mining camp.”, he cleared his throat and readjusted himself in his squeaking chair.   
“Mr Smith, I did not come here in search of money or items of monetary value. I came here because my sister has died, and I never got a chance to meet her. And I will never get another chance to find out who she was, what she was like. Your time with her is much more valuable to me. I just want to know, that is all.”  
The foreman relaxed his tense shoulders, sighed and nodded. I was who I said I was. My story was true. “She was….beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever met. And I've met a fair few, heh! Ahem...she looked somewhat like you. Red hair, green eyes. Although she had softer features now I look at you. There’s- I mean there’s nothing wrong with that you’re quite an attractive woman… Hmmm. But I loved your sister like no one had ever loved before. She was gentle and kind, a terrific secretary! I know it doesn’t look like it now, but boy did she keep this place ship-shape! She would tut if she could see what I've done with the place now. Your sister was a good woman! And she was well-liked by everyone. She didn’t make eyes or ruffle any feathers with the guys. She was honest, warm and true. And I miss her. Every day.”, he sniffled and grabbed at dirty rag to dab at his face to wipe away the tears, but not the memories he had with her. I could see her and them in his mind. I felt the love and respect he had for her. The loss was near enough unbearable for him and he was not coping well.   
“Thank you”, I reached out and touched his hand, squeezing it gently.   
“I don’t think you should know the details about how Rose died… it’s...it might upset you.”  
“I assure you I'm much more hardy than I look. I need to know. I know it might sound strange or morbid, but I need the closure of knowing can bring.”  
“Alright....but if it gets too much you let me know and I'll stop.”   
I nodded in agreement, I was starting to see the picture in his mind on an infinite loop. I heard his voice in his mind calling out to her through the crowd of loud whoops and yells as a fight raged on in the courtyard outside.   
“His name was Logan. Your sister went to live with him when her pa- when your mother and stepfather died. That would be right isn’t it, stepfather?”  
“I don’t think it really matters. I never knew him.”  
“Right. Ahem...he came with her. They fled from some nasty business that went down in his home. She didn’t want to tell me, but I knew it was bad. I liked the boy, he was as soft as they come when he first arrived, but he soon toughened up and became a real good worker. But there was one of the guys who would pick on him a bit. It happens and Logan, he was a small man. Strong as an ox! But still small, so I think he saw him as easy pickings. Scrappy fighter though!” I saw the fight he had with this Logan, and that he had let the foreman win. I also saw that Logan had loved Rose too, but the feelings weren’t returned. “There was a fight that evening. Two actually, but one that…”, he stopped and I could see his lips press into a thin line as he struggled with what to say. He didn’t want to talk about this, but at the same time, he respected my need for closure. With a deep, shuddering inhale of breath he finished the sentence “...that one killed your sister. Some stranger came in, God knows who he was! He acted like him and Logan was once acquainted, and not in a good way! This guy... I don’t suppose you know him, had long deep white scars across his face? Like a tiger had scratched him.”  
“No. I don’t.”  
“No, you probably wouldn’t. Anyway, they got in a tussle and…”, he paused again, but this time it was for a different reason. He was reexamining what had happened, how Rose was killed. In his mind, I saw what happened and my face drained of colour. The shorter man in the scene had bone claws similar to mine coming out of his hands. Rose was yelling at them to stop, but he couldn’t hear her. She took a step and another. It was on the second step she was accidentally pushed into the fight as Logan swung his arm back, skewering her in the process. “There must have been a weapon in his hand…”, he said in a voice that felt miles away from where we sat.   
“Yes.”, I stared down at the floor, but all I could see was Rose bleeding out on the ground.   
“I buried her out on the hill, it’s pretty there. Got a great view. She liked it, so…”  
I nodded and looked away out of the office window to where the fight had taken place.   
“I can take you up there if you would like?”  
“Yes please, that would be most kind.” I was functioning as an automaton now, got up and walked where I needed to go. I didn’t know quite how I was feeling. If I was completely honest with myself, I think the closest feeling would be, numb. I felt numb. This terrible tragedy had happened to a member of my family, whom I didn’t know. And I felt numb. I wanted to feel normal. I wanted to be upset, I wanted to be angry, I wanted to feel relief. But on that hill, looking at her gravestone, I felt closure, but I still felt numb inside.   
He stood awkwardly beside me with his head bowed.   
“I was going to give her this…”, with a limp hand he extracted a small fabric pouch from his jacket and handed it to me. “But, I think she would’ve liked you to have it. God knows it feels like a weight around my heart.” Inside was a small silver pendant in the shape of a lotus flower with coloured enamel on the leaves and petals. It was beautiful.   
“Thank you.” I placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at the side of his face. He was with her. A husk of a person stood there, whatever life he had, had died with her when he buried her. He didn’t even acknowledge me being there, so I turned and walked away. I had gotten to the bottom and looked up and he was still there. I made a vow.

I will never kill.


	7. Meskwaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Struggling onto something new.

It was growing dark as I waited for the stagecoach to pull by, or anyone to pull by besides a tumbleweed blowing down the road. I let out a huge groan into the evening air which turned into a low growl at the end. I didn’t have much with me, but what i had was enough to allow me to sit comfortably. A few coyotes howled somewhere behind me and the wind picked up its pace. Despite being far from the mines, I could hear the cling of metal chains against the carts they used. Generally, when a gust of wind starts up, it can signal rain and looking above me, it was looking quite dark and cloudy, not even the early evening stars were twinkling in that darkness. _Please don’t rain, please don’t rain!_ I pulled the lapels of my coat around me tighter as a draft was starting to go down my neck. _Hurry up, for goodness sake!_

It took me a good hour sat in the rain for me to accept that a coach was not coming! And I was in a foul mood! Gathering all my stuff up I strode out onto the fields to find some shelter under a bush or tree. My hat which had been puffy and large and made of forest green velvet had sunk on my head and kept on sliding down over my eyes, making it very difficult in seeing where I walked! Consequently, it was of no surprise I slid down into a ditch and hit my head on a rock. I was ‘out for the count’, one might say.

When I awoke I could smell burning wood and warmth making me wake with a yelp thinking I was amidst a bush fire. As my addled brain started to return to its former quality of functioning I remembered it had been raining, which meant it would be very hard if not difficult for a wild bush fire to be started. My eyes and head hurt like my skull had been used like a set of bongo drums. With my eyes squeezed shut I slumped back down. _Lord, just take me now and let me leave this God-forsaken world which I had been forced to live in._ Which may have happened had I not been poked away by a very boney finger on my cheek. I swatted at the bog-dweller who would dare to poke an injured woman! I growled and opened my eyes, ready to defend myself. My emotional state at that moment commenced a very sharp detour to delighted surprise. For in front of me was a very attractive woman who was smiling and giggling at me. “Hello”, I ventured with a coy smile. She stopped giggling and went running out of the tent I had found myself in. I rose a little to see where I was, and she came back in with a bowl of fresh water to tend to my head wound which had already dried and healed. I was pretty sure I looked a fright! But she tended to me so gently and attentively. Every now and then catching my eye. As she moved away I caught her arm and thanked her, she nodded her head and went back outside. Lord, she was beautiful, with a glowing brown skin tinged with a hint of red, and long brown hair tied back into a braid. Her eyes were striking, one blue, one brown. A scar across the blue eye made me see that an injury had changed the colour of her iris, it crossed my mind that her vision on that side may have been impaired. I wished for her to come back, I tried to roll up onto my knees but the walls started to spin and I was out again.


	8. Ogin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected involvement

My understanding and knowledge of various native Americans and Canadians were extremely limited. As sad as I am to say, most of my knowledge came from novellas about wild savages and the hero cavalry soldiers who fight them to protect villages from being pillaged. Then there were the smutty songs about native women and the equally distasteful dance shows.

Being here now I can see everything I knew was wrong. They were not dumb or aggressive. They were not cannibals and there was no drums or howling. Everyone had something to do, from the young children helping their elders sew clothing with looms, to the men tending to the horses and assisting their wives with 'household' chores. They were quiet, peaceful and thriving. But it did also make me feel like a big sore dumb thumb sticking out.

The woman who had been tended to me came skipping over with a big smile on her face and took my hand in hers. I let her lead me over to some baskets of plants and roots. She sat down and started to strip the leaves from the stems and wash the roots in a bowl of water. As I watched her, she passed me some to help out. I slowly and carefully followed her actions. Every now and then she would flash me a brilliant smile and I found myself mirroring her in response. She was that infectious with her happy energy. Once we got halfway through, she stopped and started to point at things and speak. I soon cottoned on that she was teaching me how to say things. I stumbled a lot at first, but she would laugh and pat at me. I got louder and bolder in my pronunciation and she would shush me out of embarrassment which would make both of us laugh and pat at each other more.

I saw some of the elders shaking their heads at our foolishness. But it had been so long since I had felt this happy and at ease with someone.

Days after that followed the same sort of pattern. She would do a chore and I would follow and help. Sometimes it was hunting and foraging which I had assumed to be a job for the men, but I soon learned how the roles of the tribes were equal between the genders, which I loved! I learn so much and very quickly too, but I still followed her around and spend all of my time in her company.

One day she took me deep into the undergrowth away from the village and showed me some wild roses, "Ogin", she said.   
"Ogin", I repeated and went to break a stem to give her one of the roses. She stopped me by putting her hand over mine and shook her head. With her other hand, she placed her palm against her chest "Ogin."  
"Ohhhh, this is your name...Ogin."  
"Yes...you?", I loved the way she spoke English. Despite it being a second language, it sounded beautiful in her accent. I had been teaching her a little, while she taught me. Together we had been doing quite well.   
"Liberty"  
"Li-ber-"  
"Lib-ber-tee"  
She giggled and said my name over and over in a sing-song voice. I joined in with her. Eventually, we calmed down...eventually. I tried to ask her why after supper why she wouldn't let me break the rose stem to give her the flower. She replied that things that grow, have life. We must respect life. We take from nature what we need, but we do not rape her of her fruits. I blanched at the mention of rape, as it triggered the memory in my mind of waking up and finding what my father had done to me. Seeing my distress, Ogin put her arm around me and drew me to her and rocked me in her arms, soothing me like a child. Had anyone else done this I would've stamped out of there declaring that I am not a child and will not put up with being treated like one. But being in arms, I found a peace I had never known before. I let go and folded myself up against her. She laid us down and covered us with a fur blanket. And stroked my face with her soft fingertips. I moved my hand to catch hers and moved them to my lips to kiss the tips of them. She shuffled closer to me and entwined her fingers with mine and moved them over to her lips, kissing the back of my hand gently and lovingly. I moved a fraction of an inch closer and rubbed the tip of my nose against hers and moved in to kiss her lips. Her whole body relaxed and stiffened all at the same time. She rolled me onto my back and kept kissing my lips as her hand slid down under the blanket to my waist and pulled me to her. Our breathing became rough as our kisses picked up in fever. The tent we were in, became very warm and I started to break out into a sweat. I wanted her in a way I never wanted anyone. I wanted to be part of her, and her of me. I wanted to melt together to become one entity. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but a natural instinct took over. I wanted her to touch every inch of my body. I wanted to kiss every part of her. I rolled us over till I was on top kissing her cheeks, her lips, trailing down the front of her neck down to the dip in her collarbone. Her hand were running up and down my back and into my hair. Lower and she let out an ecstatic moan and arched her back. I understood her thoughts, her wants, her needs as they echoed mine in that moment. All of it circling down to one fact and one fact only:

I want you.

In mind. In body and in spirit. We stopped, both of our breathing ragged we looked at each other and paused. Both of us wanting so much. The need raging inside. But there was something, undeniable. Where was this going to end?

Seeming to hear my thoughts charging around in my mind she struggled up to her feet and dashed outside. I sat there unsure whether she was coming back, if I had done something wrong or if I should follow her. I waited. There was no sound outside except for the snuffling of the camp dogs looking for scraps.   
I moved onto my knees and peered out of the entrance flap. Nothing.

I retreated back inside and curled myself up in the ball and dreaded tomorrow. 


	9. First Union

When dawn broke, I could hear a lot of hustle and bustle outside with lots of frantic whispering voices and footsteps. My eyes were tough to open after my fraught night of being wide awake with a hole in my heart and crying. How could I be so stupid? I heard so many times in so many churches about the sins of the flesh. My father was not a religious man, but it was a place he could leave me while he attended his various meeting and appointments with people. The pastors were always asking where my parents were, but I never said a word. What could I say?! I learnt that it was a sin and an abomination for a man to lie with another man, but no one ever mentioned about women. Until Ogin, I never felt anything like that, not to that intensity as last night. I had been kissed before. Victor was my first kiss and my first love, however badly that ended, that was who he was to me.

But Ogin, she made things swell and rise within me. I have never felt such happiness than being by her side. I thought she had felt the same as me. Was it all just an illusion that I had made in my mind. All the looks, all the gestures. I was certain she felt the same. How could I have been so wrong?!

I didn't know what to do. I rubbed my eyes and stared at the ceiling. There were lots of pictures we had drawn and painted to represent the days that we had spent together. In the centre was a picture of the wild rose. My Ogin. My centre. My earth. She had taught me so much about the world around me that I had never noticed before. Like the stars at night and how they made shapes and images to represent stories. How to know where north, south, east and west were without needing a compass to guide me. She taught me that land, where ever it is, is all connected as we are all connected by the Great Spirit that leaves all around and inside us. The sun above, the great manifestation of its power. It was never a man, nor woman or animal. But a formless being that ebbs and flows, never-ending.

I loved listening to her and learning about her people, their history and traditions. But I loved the stories the best. Her family would invite me into their tents after supper time and they would talk about their day and her father would tell great stories and her mother would laugh and chastise him for making things up. How was i to tell truth from make-believe, she would ask him. He looked from me to Ogin and then to his wife and answer, there is a wise old soul living in this one. She has seen many lifetimes already, she knows what is true and what is false.

I wouldn't be invited now, and I started to doubt that I was so wise as he thought I was. I closed my eyes shut and then opened them wide. _Focus! What are my options? Well, I could leave and walk away. That sounds rude and ungrateful! I could-_

The flap to the tent opened abruptly and Ogin hurried in, gathering up my clothes and pressing it to me to get dressed. _Oh no! Was I to be punished?!_ Where they going to throw me out, or worse?! Before i could ask her, she was out again. I quickly struggled into my clothing and stepped outside. Everyone was standing, watching us.

The leading chief stepped out of his tent and I noticed he was wearing what looked like to be special ceremonial garments, headwear and paint. He looked stern and gestured for us to approach. I looked to the side to see what expression was on her face as to a clue of what was happening. She looked solemn and demure. I knew I could read her thoughts, but at the same time, I really didn't want to.

As we stood before the chief, he raised his hands and recited a poem which translated to:

** _Now you will feel no rain_ **

** _For each of you will be shelter to the other_ **

** _Now you will feel no cold_ **

** _For you will be the warmth to the other_ **

** _Now there is no more loneliness_ **

** _For each of you will be companion to the other_ **

** _Now you are two bodies_ **

** _But there is only one life before you _ **

** _Go now to your dwelling place_ **

** _To enter into the days of your togetherness_ **

** _And may your days be good and long upon the Earth_ **

The wife of the chief held up an ornamental vase and poured some water into a wooden cup the chief was holding before he passed it to Ogin. She took a sip and held it out to me to do the same. This….didn't feel like a punishment. The feeling of the tribe was one of joy and excitement and a lot of love and unity. I took the cup from her hands and took the remaining sip before handing the cup back to the chief.

As the cup is placed in a basket with the vase, a cheer rose up as they gathered around us to celebrate what finally I realised was happening. Our wedding day! It all clicked into place. The time we spent together, getting involved with her family, helping out with the chores and eating with them. Then finally last night, she stopped herself from going too far too soon. She needed to ask permission for our union to be blessed and officiated by the chief and tribe elders. As each member of the tribe offered their congratulations and their blessings, I saw in her parent's mind that they were pleased with their daughters choice. For a long time she had been turning down suitors, and when she introduced me formally to them, they saw the spark they had been waiting for within her. She had struck her own path, which was foretold on the day of her birth. They were happy with her choice in me and accepted me as part of their family circle.

The feast was large and merry with lots of music, singing and chanting. Even the wild dogs joined in which made us laugh.

So this was my life. Sat next to me the epicentre of my future. My wife. My Ogin. I kissed her bare shoulder and nuzzled her skin. She smelt of herbs and spices. She smelled delicious. She leaned her head against mine before looking around. She slowly knelt up into a crouching position and gestured for me to do the same. With my hand in hers, we tiptoed to our tent, but before we got inside there was a loud cheer and lots of whoops of excitement. We both looked at each other and burst into giggles. I gave the tribe members a wave, before being pulled impatiently inside. She was on me in an instant and started to pick up from where we left off last night. She was frantic and moving over me like a tornado of kisses. Her fingers and hands fluttering over every part of me.

I rolled her over and rocked back onto the heels of my feet. She sat up and wrapped her arms around me, hungrily kissing my chest. I moved her arms away and pushed her back gently. She looked confused and annoyed, which only made me smile in response.

I slowly started to peel my clothing off bit by bit, slowly revealing myself. She watched and laid against the cushions and blankets. She began to relax and moved a single finger up and down my thigh, which sent shivers down in between my legs. I felt so warm I could melt. An urgency began in me. Which only increased as she began to remove her clothing, mirroring the movements I had made to expose herself to me. She reached out to me and I caught her hand but held her briefly away from me as I took in the sight of us. There were long scars from what looked like deep scratches. She had told me that when she was a lot younger, she had been attacked by a wild dog. She survived the cuts and scratches, the dog did not. She told me of the suitors her parents had arranged for her for the past year or two ago, and how each of them never looked her in the eye. Her bad eye, as she called it. I told her her eye was a beautiful pale sky blue. Looking at her scars now I can see the extent of her wounds. I could feel her tensing and feeling self-conscious of her appearance. I moved our joined hands across her body and mine and leaned forward to kiss her face and lips as the hands moved down lower. Letting out a gasp, I squeezed my eyes tight. She snatched her hand away and looked worried. "I hurt you?", she asked, cupping my face in her hands. "No", I murmured, "You love me". I moved her hand back down and go back to kissing her deeply, our breath mingling together, hungry for each other. I loved every movement she made. How she explored my entire body and the wonderland I had found in hers. How good she tasted on my tongue. The salt on her skin. The wetness down below, how sweet like nectar it tasted in my mouth. Her hair falling backwards, her nipples peaking as my hand ran over them again and again. The mound of her breast in my hand, how soft, how hot she felt. Our heartbeats beating faster than a hummingbird. I wanted more and more of her. I wanted to forget where I ended and she began! I wanted her more than I could bear. How hard and pleading her moans became. How she begged the Great Spirit for a release. I increased my fervour of her, blending her moans into mine. Give me more. She clenched a ball of my hair into her fist as she held my head against her core. I breathed into her as I drank deep from her well, over and over, lapping at everything she gave me. Her whimpers gathering together, their pitch floating higher and louder into the air. I grabbed at her hips as I licked large licks up and over her, again and again losing all thought and sense, working just on instinct alone, she paused as she hit her peak and shuddered all over like a ripple in a lake. I felt her throb inside when I placed my hand over her brook and gently stroked and patted her, watching her surf the aftershock waves of her climax. She collapsed on the blanket and panted heavy and hard. Every now and then raising a hand or trying to roll herself over but not having the energy to. I chuckled and kissed my way back up to her lips. Perfection comes in blue and brown. Perfection was a flower in the wild.


	10. The Lost Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where warmth dies.

After our first night together things soon fell into a blissful routine. We would eat breakfast together and go about our daily chores, ranging from weapon making, making and collecting food, washing and cleaning, making various textiles from wild cotton that grew locally, to looking after the cattle and horses. It was always so busy with lots of people. I had learnt that they had moved up from the south where their village had been attacked by cattle rustlers and their land was being sold off to developers to utilise. I learned a lot during my time there, all the local gossip of the clan. I found out who was secretly stealing from who. Fights occasionally broke out too. But the majority of the time we had visitors from nearby settlers who wanted to trade, some had families as well and they would come along to introduce themselves.

I offered to teach them the English language but soon found out they already had picked it up long beforehand, which put me in my place with assumptions. But they were keen on my knowledge of medicine and various plants, trees and flowers grown in the area and how they could be used in lots of different ways. Once that started up and I worked alongside their medicine man I found very much at home in my element.

The seasons passed by quickly and winter soon sprung upon us. During the year many of the clansmen joined the American army as they entered into the first world war. I was surprised by their patriotism due to how they and many other tribes had been treated, but I was told this is their country more than anyone's and they will do what they can to protect it.

But it did leave us quite sparse in terms of people. So many of us had to pick up the pace and learn new skills to keep everything in working order. Some days were better than others. When winter came, it came quite harsh. The ground was solid with ice. Every morning we would have to thaw the ice to have fresh water. Food became quite scarce as many animals went into hibernation deep underground. Not much grew that we could eat and the autumn before had been quite wet which meant a lot of our food that had been stored became rotten. In short, we were starving.

This may have factored into what happened that winter that still haunts me to this very day.

The day started cold but sunny which meant the water wasn't as frozen as most days it was. So we didn't have to spend much time washing and dressing before arranging what little we had in the way of food for breakfast. Ogin arranged with some of the other members to go hunting for food, this included some of the children. It was decided a good opportunity to teach them hunting and gathering skills. Another group which included myself set off to the settler farms in the area to trade for food. I quite liked the families in the area, they were always so kind and friendly. This wasn't always the case in areas and I had heard stories when I travelled around America before coming back to Canada.

I was gone for most of the day. I was also the only doctor around, which I think helped our bargaining tactics. I had made up various ointments, powder sachets, medicinal teas and creams to sell. We got many things in abundance for them and there were a few consultations too where someone had injured themselves or came down with a chronic illness.   
When the sun started to set we set our course to home. We hadn't gone too far, so we were confident that we would arrive home by dark.

The sun was setting low and red in the sky, casting shards of pink and orange light against the blue and white clouds in the sky. As twilight sat in, so did the chill of the air. The warmth of the sun had gone. And I felt a shiver down my spine.   
As we neared home, we heard many raised voices and cries filtering through the trees. A pang of apprehension struck into my chest and trickled down into my belly.

There in the centre was a large huddle of people crying and wailing, most of them were children. We picked up the pace as we rode back in. A few people came running up to us and spoke over one another.   
Someone had drowned. They had been skating on the ice with the children and fell through a crack. They tried to find her, but she had been pulled under by the current.

I asked them who it was and their talking stopped. They looked from one to the other. They didn't need to speak. I could hear their thoughts. And I sank to my knees.

I don't remember much of anything after that. Just the sensation of being lifted, of hands and arms. I remember the fire in the middle and everyone walking back and forth in front of it. A blanket was put around me along with an arm that rocked me side to side, like a mother comforting a child after waking from a nightmare.

I didn't make a sound. I felt so far removed from my surroundings. I felt like a sack of flour rolling forwards overland with time. I didn't know where I was, and I didn't know where I was going. A compass inside me pulled me onwards across the sea to somewhere away from the heat and chill of death.

Onwards over hills, through green valleys, I walked. Through the woodlands and the forests. Through and rain. Clambering over rocks and small mountains. I travel over oceans so vast, I felt so lost. 

I came to a stop with the eyes of many strangers upon me. I collapsed with grief and exhaustion. 


End file.
